Tempted by a Dangerous Man by Cleo Peitsche Page B

 
    And dancing, apparently, was a hell of an aphrodisiac. Especially when my partner had wings for feet. Feeling his body rubbing up against mine, his hands sliding along my arms and shoulders, sometimes pausing on my lower back, pulling me toward him, turning me, bringing me in close again… and one dance, I didn’t even know what it was, but his leg was between mine, and it was so delicious and naughty.
    “You’ve been there before?” I asked as we waited at the restaurant coat check. Meanwhile, my gaze darted surreptitiously around, trying to find a quiet, dark place where I could drag Corbin for a bit of quick relief.
    Because I knew I wouldn’t survive the drive back.
    Corbin seemed completely unaffected, but I knew better. I had noticed his erection while we danced, and if I hadn’t dry-humped him on the floor, it wasn’t for lack of trying. He helped me into my coat, draped the gorgeous scarf around my neck, then put his arm around me. “Once, years ago. Wasn’t even sure it was still open.”
    It had gotten quite cold outside, and when we got into the SUV, I was surprised that the valets had pre-warmed the inside.
    And I had been impressed by heated seats. “Are you still answering all my questions, no matter what?”
    Corbin shot a look at me, and his mouth settled into a firm line.  
    “It’s personal, but not top secret or anything,” I promised. “Probably.” When Corbin didn’t answer, I took that as permission to go ahead. “How much money do you have?”
    He exhaled in a short burst. Amused, maybe. Or frustrated. Hard to tell in the dark. “Don’t know. I’m not trying to avoid the question, but I haven’t gotten an accounting in several years.”
    That could only mean he had a lot. A hell of a lot.  
    “You and I are from completely different worlds,” I said. “You think it’s weird how well we get along?”
    “Not at all,” he said. “Growing up, I knew my family had money, of course. But many of the places we lived, my friends had nothing. Less than nothing. Maybe if I’d grown up surrounded by people who were also smart enough to be born into a wealthy family… but I didn’t.”
    “So does being around rich people make you uncomfortable? Since you grew up surrounded by poverty.”
    He laughed. “No. And I don’t consider myself rich. I know I am, of course, but my life… day to day, the money I have in the bank doesn’t change anything. It won’t keep me alive. It won’t keep me safe. And it can’t buy me the things I want most.”
    “To have your wife back,” I said.
    “Peace. It can’t buy me that. Good friends. Health. These are the important things in life.”
    “Spoken like someone who never cut the mold off of cheese,” I grumbled.

“Maybe I’m a fool. I pay extra for moldy cheese.” His voice grew serious. “What would you give to repair the rift between you and your father?”
    My laugh sounded bitter, harsh. It wasn’t an attractive sound. “Why would I give a shit what happens to him? You know what I think is important? Not killing myself trying to please a father who never loved me.”
    “He loves you,” Corbin said.  
    “You think that because if you had a daughter, you would adore her.”
    “When imperfect people become parents, they’re imperfect parents. From what you’ve told me about your father, it’s clear that he’s got problems. He doesn’t have very good people skills.”  
    I snorted.
    “In no way am I excusing anything he’s done. He owes you an apology and a whole lot more. But I don’t believe that he doesn’t love you. He’s just not very good at showing it.”
    “You’re being too easy on him.”
    “I want to wring his neck,” Corbin said. “But he’s your father, and I wouldn’t be surprised if he regrets how he handled things.”  
    We were pulling up to a well-lit and trim building. It was a little too large to be a house, but the manicured evergreen bushes that lined it, the plowed drive—it felt